


break me to pieces (I think you're just like heaven)

by WitchofEndor



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Marriage Proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-20 21:52:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13726701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WitchofEndor/pseuds/WitchofEndor
Summary: Steve takes one of Tony’s hands in both of his, stretched out over the table between them, and offers him a shaky smile. Tony steels himself. He knows what’s coming.(Note: Tony does not know what’s coming.)





	break me to pieces (I think you're just like heaven)

**Author's Note:**

> Title from 'Cassiopeia' by Sara Bareilles.
> 
> This work is un-beta'd, so I apologise for any mistakes. Also, this work is completely irredeemably fluffy. I don't even know what happened, guys.

Steve takes one of Tony’s hands in both of his, stretched out over the table between them, and offers him a shaky smile. Tony steels himself. He knows what’s coming.

Steve has been nervous for the last few days, and has been acting off for weeks before that. Tony isn’t entirely sure when everything went wrong, but he’s been expecting it, so it wasn’t hard to spot once Steve started giving him long, calculating looks when he thought Tony wasn’t paying attention. It had probably started around their one-year anniversary. That had been a nice day, but it makes sense to Tony that Steve would use that marker to start re-evaluating just what the hell they’re doing here.

So Tony steels himself for the break-up, for whatever ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech Steve has concocted and probably doesn’t know is a horrible cliché.

“Listen, Tony,” Steve says, smile still a little uncertain on his face. “I’ve been meaning to say—”

Of course, that’s when the Avengers alarm goes off, because fuck Tony’s life.

*

The battle is short but difficult, and Tony and Steve go to bed sore and tired. Steve doesn’t try to bring the imminent break-up back to their conversation, so Tony clings to the last of their time together and wraps his arms around Steve as they go to sleep. It doesn’t matter anymore whether or not Tony’s clinginess is annoying. He’s losing Steve anyway.

Tony tries not to be too hurt by it. He knew this was coming. He’s been mourning this relationship since the day it started, so it’s not a fresh wound anymore. Tony thinks that he’s learned from his past mistakes and made this all easier on himself. With Pepper, Tony had allowed himself to pretend that it could last, and where had that gotten him? He’d been a mess when Pepper left. He’ll be a mess when Steve leaves, too, but at least he’s expecting it. He’s been braced for impact since Steve first kissed him, in the morning light in the communal kitchen of Avengers Tower.

Honestly, Tony’s impressed that it’s lasted this long. Maybe it was the one-year mark that did it. Or maybe Steve finally found someone else, some Little Miss Apple Pie who’s actually good enough for him. She’s probably a kindergarten teacher. Or maybe even another superhero, but someone without so much red in their ledger.

Tony hopes he doesn’t already know whoever it might be. It’ll be easier to pretend to be happy for Steve that way. Because he will be happy for Steve. Steve deserves someone better than Tony, and they both know it.

So Tony clings, and he barely sleeps, but he does get to savour the last moments of his time with the love of his life, so. There’s that.

*

It happens the next day. Tony’s still a little sore from yesterday’s fight, but it’s just a few bruises, so he’s working on the armour in his workshop. Steve joined him an hour or so ago, and has been sitting on the couch and sketching, which is normal. What is less normal is how he’s occasionally tapping his pencil against his leg and staring off into the distance.

So Tony knows it’s coming. Steve is trying to find the right words, or find the courage, or something.

Eventually, Steve stands from the couch and asks, “Are you at a place where you can stop for a moment?”

This is where Tony would normally make some kind of innuendo. But not today. Today, he just swallows against regret, against all of the begging that he wants to do (‘I can do better, please just give me another chance, I love you’), and squares his shoulders.

“Yeah,” Tony says, and hears his voice come out low and flat. “What’s up, Steve?”

He means to invite Steve to say his bit, but when Steve smiles, it’s that same shaky smile from yesterday, and it hurts to look at. So Tony looks down towards his workbench, fiddles with the wrench he’s holding as he waits for Steve to pull his heart apart.

“I wanted to talk about something,” Steve starts, and then takes a deep breath. His breath shakes.

This is hard for Steve to say. Steve is nervous. Tony doesn’t understand why Steve is _nervous_ about this. Does he think Tony’s going to resist? Is he worried that Tony actually _will_ beg, instead of swallowing it all down?

“It’s okay,” Tony says, flicking his eyes up to meet Steve’s briefly. Steve’s eyes are so blue. They’re one of Tony’s favourite things about him, because all of Tony’s favourite things about Steve are the parts that the serum didn’t touch. His eyes. His laugh. His kindness. Tony tries for a smile. “It’s okay, you don’t have to say it. I know. I get it.”

Steve blinks, and he looks surprised. “You… do?” he asks, sounding almost hopeful.

Tony wishes he’s sat down for this conversation. His voice is steady, but his legs aren’t. He puts the wrench down and rubs the back of his neck, trying to claw together what’s left of his dignity.

“Yeah,” Tony replies. “I get it. I knew this was coming, I’m not an idiot.” He huffs a self-deprecating laugh and doesn’t look at Steve, who is still and silent. “You can, we don’t have to talk about it. I get it. Look, I’ll be down here for a few hours, if you want to move your stuff out of my room. Or—Or I can move my stuff, you can have the room, just. Whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want,” Steve replies, sounding dazed. “Tony, why would I want to move my stuff? You can say no, that doesn’t mean we have to…” Not dazed, Tony realises. He sounds _hurt_. Tony finally looks up again, and sees that Steve’s face is drawn and sad. Did Tony do that? “We don’t have to _break up_ over this.”

Tony is confused.

“I’m confused,” Tony admits, because he’s been working on what he says mirroring what he thinks. It’s been a whole thing with Bruce, who apparently has no time for any kind of talking around issues. “I thought that was the point? That breaking up was the point?”

Steve continues to look drawn for a moment, and then his brows draw in and he looks confused. They stand there like idiots for a moment, staring at each other, and then something breaks in Steve’s expression and he suddenly doesn’t look confused at all.

“Tony, did you think I was breaking up with you?”

Tony’s instincts say things like ‘run!’ and ‘hide!’, but he really is confused about what’s going on, and Bruce’s voice in his head is saying ‘talk about this like a grown up, Tony, you’re over forty’. Somehow Bruce drowns out the instincts, and so Tony says, “Was that _not_ what’s happening?”

Steve looks hurt again, but it’s a different kind of hurt. It’s the kind of expression he has when Tony has hurt _himself_ , when he’s been trapped under a building or has to heal cracked ribs. It’s his ‘oh, Tony’ face.

“I thought we’d gotten past the part where you expect me to leave at every turn,” Steve says, taking a step forward into Tony’s space. He takes Tony’s hand and lifts it between them, and kisses Tony’s palm like Tony is precious. “I thought we’d gotten past that with the ‘I love you’s. Was I wrong?”

“Uh,” Tony replies, mind trying to recalculate what’s happening here. It sounds an awful lot like Steve _isn’t_ breaking up with him. Tony’s instincts want to celebrate, want to distract Steve from this whole mess by trying to coax him into bed (or onto the couch, or over the worktable, wherever), but Steve is meeting his eyes rather intently, and Tony can’t look away. “I guess you were wrong?” he tries, assuming it’s the right answer.

Steve leans in and kisses him on the mouth, which is promising, but then he pulls back and kisses him on the cheek, and then his temple. “I love you,” Steve says, low and serious. His hand squeezes Tony’s. “I am not planning on breaking up with you, ever. And if we ever _do_ break up, it’s not going to be a surprise to you. I’m not just going to decide I don’t love you anymore and leave without warning.”

Tony’s breath rushes out of him like he was punched in the stomach. “Oh,” he says, leaning his forehead against Steve’s. “Okay. That’s… That’s good to know.”

They stand there like that for a few minutes, breathing each other’s air and calming down (at least, in Tony’s case), and then Tony’s mind ticks over the last day and tries to recalculate the data.

The data still doesn’t make sense.

“So, what was with the whole stilted ‘we need to talk’ stuff?” Tony asks, pulling back far enough to catch Steve’s gaze without going cross-eyed. “I wasn’t imagining that. You were nervous about something. If it wasn’t dumping me, what was it?”

Steve looked sheepish. “Uh, can we talk about that another time?”

Tony feels himself tensing and can’t stop it, even though his conscious mind is reminding his instincts that Steve _literally just said_ that he isn’t dumping Tony.

Steve seems to notice Tony tense up – how could he not, standing in Tony’s personal space like this? – and he frowns again. “Okay,” Steve says, “so I can’t get away with this being a surprise.”

“With what being a surprise?” Tony asks, trying to will his body to relax.

Steve smiles, shakily again, and darts in for a quick kiss. When he pulls back, Steve looks at Tony very seriously, and says, “I’m going to ask you to marry me.”

Tony’s mind grinds to a halt. “You’re asking me to _marry_ you?” he asks, disbelieving.

“Not right now,” Steve assures him. “Not when you thought I was leaving you five minutes ago. But soon.” Tony’s instincts are all saying ‘panic!’. “You don’t have to say yes, and nothing will change if you say no, whether it’s ‘not yet’ or ‘not ever’.”

“You want to marry me,” Tony says, and he doesn’t realise how dazed he is by that realisation until he hears his own voice. “ _Me_. That doesn’t strike you as, I don’t know, a terrible idea?”

Steve smiles, and this time it’s not shaky at all. It’s a real smile, a sun-breaking-out-from-behind-the-clouds smile. It’s another one of Tony’s favourite things about him.

“It strikes me as a great idea,” Steve says, sounding so sure of himself that Tony can’t help but believe him, just a tiny bit. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Tony. I want everyone to know that. I want _you_ to know that. I want to be able to call you my husband.” He leans back in, forehead tilting against Tony’s, and Tony is so overwhelmed by how much he loves this man that he could cry. He won’t. But he could.

“Oh,” is all he can bring himself to say.

“And if the answer is no, I still want to be with you forever,” Steve goes on. “When I ask you, it won’t be an ultimatum. It will just be an expression of how sure I am that I will always love you.”

Tony goes to swallow down the panic, and then realises that it has disappeared. He lifts up his spare hand, the one that isn’t caught in Steve’s between their chests, and slides his hand around the back of Steve’s neck.

Tony takes a deep breath.

“Steve,” he says, and he sounds sure, now. He can hear it in his own voice. “You should know,” he starts, and then feels his own mouth pull into a smile. “When you ask, I’m going to say yes.”


End file.
